


he tastes like cherry cola

by wiski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Failwolf Friday, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Ridiculous, Schmoop, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:18:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiski/pseuds/wiski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This year’s Valentine’s Day has taken a decided turn for the bizarre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he tastes like cherry cola

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seasickfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasickfish/gifts).



> For Gunnhild, who prompted this and then looked up cheesy pick-up lines with me. It has been the most fun I've had on Valentine's Day, so thanks, bb!
> 
> Unbetaed, and it's almost five in the morning now over here, so I'm sorry for any stupid mistakes. Feel free to point them out if you spot any!
> 
> Sorry in advance for the stupid, teeth-rotting ending, but I'm super exhausted right now so I can't really think of a good way to fix it. D: I might come back to edit later.
> 
> UPDATE: I came back and did some minor editing after getting four hours of sleep, and still can't think of a better way to end this, so I guess you guys are stuck with this schmoop-fest now. :P Please forgive me in the spirit of Valentine's Day?
> 
> Title adapted from the song Lola by the Kinks and Cherry Cola by McFly, which started looping in my head as soon as the idea of cherry cola popped into my head.

This year’s Valentine’s Day has taken a decided turn for the bizarre.

The strangeness starts, bright and early, on the morning of Valentine’s Day. Stiles has just stumbled out of bed and is blearily brushing his teeth when he notices a blur of pink out of the corner of one eye. He tries his best to focus his still blurry eyes on the Post-It (which is in a rather alarming shade of neon pink, and cut into a rather crude attempt at a heart-shape) stuck on his bathroom mirror.

“ _Hey, Valentine,_  
 _have you always been this cute,_  
 _or did you have to work at it?_ ”

“Huh?” Stiles stares dumbly at the three lines of chicken-scrawl in black ball-point on the neon pink background. There’s a smiley face on the bottom, but its smile is crooked and twisted in a vaguely sinister way. A dribble of toothpaste trickles from Stiles’s open mouth down his chin and drips down the front of his pajama shirt. “Whu—?”

Before his lethargic brain could fully process what is going on, his father is yelling for him to hurry up. Stiles hastily wraps up his morning ritual, finger-combs his messy bed-hair, haphazardly throws on a clean-looking shirt, grabs his bag from the floor by his door and clatters down the stairs, the odd little heart-shaped note already shoved to the back of his mind.

But it only gets weirder from there.

*

Stiles is sprinting up the front steps of the Beacon Hill High School when he hears Scott’s familiar voice calling out his name. He slows down and waits for Scott to catch up. They head for their lockers together.

“Stiles! Hey man, can I borrow your Chem notes from yesterday? I was gonna ask you right after class, but I got distracted thinking about Allison’s Valentine’s Day present.”

“Sure, hang on.” Stiles stops in front of his locker and unzips his bag, riffling around for his notes. “Ah! Here you go,” he hands them over and turns to open his locker, but is interrupted by Scott’s confused voice.

“What’s this?”

Stiles looks over and watches as Scott peels another neon pink almost-heart-shape off of one of the pages of his chemistry notes with the tips of two fingers.

Scott frowns and squints at the note, and reads aloud,

“ _Roses are red,_  
 _violets are blue,_  
 _honey is sweet,_  
 _but not as sweet as you._ ”

“…Huh?”

Stiles snatches the sticky note from Scott’s limp grasp to inspect it himself and, yup, it’s the same handwriting from the note on his bathroom mirror. There’s a doodle at the bottom of this one as well, which, judging from the contents of this note, Stiles guesses can only be a rose. If he squints. And looks at it sideways. Maybe.

“…What.”

“That’s…kinda lame. What’s that black-blot-on-a-stick on the bottom supposed to mean?” Scott is peering curiously over his shoulder.

“I…’m not really sure.” He stares at the Post-It for another second, then tucks it into a notebook and shoves it into his locker. “Whatever. Dude, we’re gonna be late for class.” He throws his things haphazardly into his bag and slings it over his shoulder.

“Oh, right! One sec!” And Scott starts scrambling to grab his books and notes, then carefully balances a heart-shaped box wrapped in pink and red wrapping paper on top of the stack. “For Allison,” he smiles dopily.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Of course. Who else? Let’s go!”

*

Stiles finds another sticky note when he gets to class and is digging through his bag for his trusty orange highlighter. Scott is busy making eyes at Allison and didn’t notice his huff of amusement when he found it. The message this time is on two hearts with tattered edges stuck together sloppily, with a black splotch which looks vaguely like an insect-smudge on a windshield on the top one. The single line scribbled on the note underneath reads,

“ _BEE mine, Valentine._ ”

Stiles tucks it away in his History book, and then grabs his highlighter to start taking notes. He tries not to grin too widely.

*

Things carry on in this manner the rest of the day, with neon pink heart-shape-wannabe Post-It notes with cheesy pick-up lines and ugly drawings on them appearing in random places as Stiles goes about his business in school as usual. It becomes something like a treasure hunt for him after he finds,

“ _You are the apple of my eye,_ ”

in his wallet, and,

“ _I'm bananas over you,_ ”

on the side of his favorite desk in Bio. (There’s a rather suggestively shaped banana drawn on the latter, though Stiles suspects the innuendo is most likely unintentional.) Starting during around fourth period, he begins to deliberately look around for a hint of neon pink in his periphery wherever he goes. Even some of his classmates have noticed this oddity, that and his rather obvious continual giddiness, but he ignores their catcalls, and just smirks in response to their persistent questions.

Every single note makes him beam, ridiculously happy, when he reads them, some more so than others. His favorites of the batch include the schmoopy but kind of sweet,

“ _If I had a star for every time you brightened my day,  
I'd have a galaxy in my hand,_ ”

dotted with a dozen tiny stars, found in the glove compartment in his Jeep when he went on a search during lunch; the rather cheesy,

“ _Life without you is like a broken pencil, pointless,_ ”

fittingly wrapped around his chewed-on number two pencil; the silly,

“ _Are you a dictionary?  
Because you give meaning to my life,_ ”

marking his place in the copy of _Light in August_ he’s reading for AP Lit.; and, the geeky,

“ _Why would I need to know about the solar system?  
My whole world revolves around you,_ ”

stuck to his favorite seat in the lunchroom, and most relevant to his interests and Stiles’s personal favorite,

“ _If you were a transformer,  
your name would be Optimus Fine,_ ”

stuffed into his gym locker on top of a pair of his dirty sweatpants.

Stiles has managed to collect about thirty assorted sticky notes by the time his classes are over for the day. His werewolf friends keep shooting him strange looks and nudging each other knowingly all day today and he’s beginning to feel kind of twitchy with impatience to confront his “secret admirer”.

The halls of the school are rapidly emptying, most of the student population rushing off to spend what’s left of Valentine’s Day with their Valentines. Scott has run off ten minutes ago with barely a glance in Stiles’s direction, dreamy look on his face. Their other friends are all paired off as well, leaving Stiles the only one of their little group still loitering around on the school grounds.

Stiles gathers all the Post-It hearts together and stuffs them into one of the pockets in his backpack, and then unhurriedly makes his way to the lockers, mind occupied with schemes to catch his secret Valentine. He opens his locker to grab his stuff to get ready to head home, only to find a lone can of cherry cola sitting in the middle of his cluttered possessions, a sloppy note stuck to its front, looking forlorn.

“ _You are sweeter than chocolates, Valentine,_ ”

the note proclaims a bit nonsensically.

“O…kay. This is the weirdest one yet,” he half mumbles, casting a sideways glance at the vending machine down the hall. The green light next to the button for “Cherry Cola” blinks innocently at him.

The hallway is deserted now. Stiles raises his voice. “You can come out now. I know you’re still around here somewhere.”

After a moment of total silence, the door to one of the classrooms nearest to Stiles’s locker creaks open and a black-clad figure shuffles awkwardly out from behind it.

“Hey, Derek. Fancy seeing you here,” Stiles says drily.

Derek glares at him halfheartedly, then shuffles his feet. “…How did you know it was me?”

“Well, I kind of figured it was you around the fifth note. All these Post-It's popping up in every crevice imaginable? It's bound to be someone well versed in the art of creeping. And who else in my acquaintance is better at being a creepy creeper than you, Derek? Also? Those corny lines definitely did not come from a pretentious teenager.”

“Shut up. Isaac helped me with some of the lines.” Derek looks petulant, an almost-pout on his face. It’s kind of really adorable, not that Stiles is ever going to tell that to his face.

“I _knew_ you couldn’t have come up with some of those line without help from the Internet,” Stiles grins at Derek’s scowl. “I gotta ask though, why cherry cola? I’d have pinned you as someone who would go for more traditional approaches, like chocolate or flowers. And its note did say chocolates.”

“…The janitor found me hiding in the broom closet earlier this afternoon. I had to give her your chocolates so she wouldn’t cause a scene or call security to kick me out. I had to… improvise. And cherry cola is red.”

“Oh my God. You—you are ridiculous. And, have you been hiding in the school the whole day? In a _broom closet_?”

“…I hid in unoccupied classrooms and bathrooms too.”

Stiles cannot stop laughing. “Oh God, could you be more of a creeper?”

Derek actually flinches and looks hurt at that, so Stiles tries his hardest to suppress his laughter. He can’t quite control the upward tilt to one corner of his mouth though.

“So, can I just ask, _why_? Why did you do all this? Why _me_?”

“I… Everyone else in the pack has their own Valentine. I didn’t want you to feel left out.” Derek is fidgeting with his hands and refusing to look at Stiles.

“Oh. _Really_.” Stiles hums thoughtfully. He feel all warm and fuzzy inside, now. “Hold that thought.” He grabs his wallet and dashes down the hall before Derek can say anything.

He’s back in under a minute, clutching another can of cherry cola, fresh from the vending machine. He shoves the icy container into Derek’s hand, and then reaches into his lock for his own, cracking the lid open with a loud ‘pop’ and takes a sip, smacking his lips obnoxiously. He shrugs at Derek’s look of utter confusion.

“You don’t have a Valentine either, right? So I’m returning the favor, dude,” Stiles shoots him a winning smile.

“Don’t call me ‘dude’,” Derek grumbles, opening his own drink and taking a sip.

“Oh, did you want a note with yours too?” He leaves Derek standing there stupidly clutching his can of cherry cola and quickly reaches into his locker to dig out his own stack of (plain light blue) Post-Its, and, grabbing a ballpoint pen and looking thoughtfully at Derek, he quickly starts scribbling, his hands and face hidden by the door of his locker. Soon enough he’s able to present his little masterpiece to Derek with a big flourish. It reads,

“ _I’ll be your Batman,  
if you’ll be my Cat ~~wo~~ man,_”

complete with a crooked Bat Signal on the bottom and everything. It’s an awesome and rather witty line, if he does say so himself.

Derek looks from Stiles to the slightly crumpled sticky note in his hand, then back to Stiles’s face, his expression unreadable. “I refuse to be _Cat_ man. I am an Alpha werewolf,” he says at last with an eye roll, but he doesn’t protest any further.

Stiles takes another swig of his soda, silly grin firm on his face. “What would you like to be called then, _dude_?” He raises the can in a mock toast.

Derek scowls a little at the “dude”, but he just shakes his head and doesn’t comment. What he does do is step into Stiles’s personal space and pluck the soda can out of his hand, and before Stiles can protest, he puts both cans of cherry cola into the open locker, then pushes Stiles up against the neighboring locker and proceeds to kiss him thoroughly.

Derek has a hand on Stiles’s jaw, keeping him in place while his tongue methodically maps out the inside of Stiles’s mouth, using the weight of his body to press Stiles into the locker door. Stiles runs the fingers of one hand through Derek’s thick hair, reveling in its softness, pulling a little, making Derek’s breath hitch. Derek’s mouth tastes like cola, sticky and sweet, with just a hint of cherry syrup. It’s an intoxicating combination, together with the unique taste that is Derek. Stiles can’t get enough of it. He licks into Derek’s warm mouth, over his lips, chasing the flavor of Derek and cherry cola. Derek seems to have his own plan of action, pretty content for the moment to let Stiles have his fill of Derek’s taste as he held Stiles’s face between his palms and nibbles on his top lip, bottom lip, the tip of his tongue.

They pull apart after some time, ten minutes or an hour, Stiles doesn’t particularly care. They breathe together for a little while, foreheads pressed together. Stiles looks at Derek, sees the openness in his face that’s never been there before, and feels a sudden surge of affection for him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Derek,” he says softly, “Thanks for the Valentines.”

“You’re welcome.” Derek whispers against his lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, EVERYONE! ♥


End file.
